


Once More, With Feeling!

by SqueakyClam



Series: Weeping Cliffsides [2]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: A whole lot of Ghost arguing with themselves and staring at things, Angst, Canon Dialogue, Denial, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Existential Crisis, Existentialism, Flagrant abuse of repetition as a literary device, Flashbacks, Gen, Ghost refuses to have emotions, Gotta add more tags now, Mato doesn't appear until the third chapter, Mato is dad! this is not a debate, Not Beta Read, Not JUST canon dialogue, Nothing explicit just implied, Trauma, a lot of denial, but not too many, dadmaster mato, headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:48:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25011907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SqueakyClam/pseuds/SqueakyClam
Summary: A vessel tries to force themselves to be empty.Devoid of emotion.No will, no thoughts - nothing at all.And they are successful. They feel absolutely nothing.You can tell by the way they continue to think things.
Relationships: The Knight & Nailmaster Mato (Hollow Knight)
Series: Weeping Cliffsides [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1810942
Comments: 76
Kudos: 164





	1. Confusion

**Author's Note:**

> It's 2am this time! I am fueled off of some unknown fanfiction spirit that is possessing me and forcing me to continue writing.  
> I swear, again, I started this with full intention of Ghost meeting Mato, but Cornifer just yoinked the spotlight somehow. So I've decided to break it up into chapters. I SWEAR Mato will be in chapter 2, this is a promise I am choosing to make, but I have given you no reason to have faith in me because i don't have faith in me either  
> Also I have three other fanfic ideas so OOP
> 
> Anyway, I wrote this chapter in one sitting, and didn't really go back over to check for mistakes. That's just the unfortunate way I write - where I write a whole thing in one go, post it, come back later and there's 50 typos and I already hate it  
> Feel free to beat me up in the comments over anything you find :,) I'm sure I'll be making edits to this chapter anyway, ahah

It was akin to a system reboot.  
After a failed attempt at navigating the treacherous winds below the Howling Cliffs, the vessel found themselves reevaluating their purpose. They strayed from their usual exploration tactics, and that had led them into a sort of stump. It wasn’t as if they were entirely capable of thought in the first place, so this whole situation was an anomaly.

The only thing they managed focus on was finding Cornifer. Hopefully that could jog their senses a bit, and then they could explore this area properly.  
As they maneuvered back up the way they came, they were constantly on the lookout for anything that could be deemed important. They knew they passed a warrior spirit on the way down, but the instinct to take care of it was nullified by the current task of _Locate Cornifer.  
_None of the enemies were particularly strange, either. Tiktiks, vengeflies, crawlids… most of which were just avoided. The vessel didn’t go after what didn’t directly threaten them or prove a hindrance in their path. It was usually unnecessary to do otherwise, and they were focused on pure necessity.  
Necessity… and on occasion, usefulness.

For example, maps. They were not necessary, sure – but they proved helpful. Much like the charms that the vessel had pinned along their cloak. They were not _needed_ to accomplish what they had to, but they certainly made it easier.  
Hence why they were currently set on finding Cornifer.

Hop, hop, slash. A vengefly’s body fell onto the platform.

Hop, hop, slash. A tiktik’s grasp was dislodged, and they were hurtled down to their grave below.

Hop, hop – paper.  
The vessel halted, their eyes catching the sight of a loose piece of parchment. They lifted their head, straining to hear, and caught the sound of delightful humming.

Well… delightful to anyone else that could hear it. The vessel wouldn’t have an opinion on that matter. The vessel _shouldn’t_ have an opinion on that matter. Really, the fact that they’re speeding up has nothing to do with excitement to see a friendly face again. Vessels can’t feel excitement. They’re simply just picking up their pace; no complex reasoning behind it, no matter what they may think.

Not that they can think, either.

Following the paper trail, the vessel soon found themselves moving inward. A small crevice in the side of the cliff opened up into a quaint little cave. With a quick scan of their surroundings, the vessel only now realized what the walls consisted of.  
Shells, apparently. Empty, fossilized shells, weathered down and eroded until they became part of this cliff’s structure. One could only imagine the creatures that once lived in them… unless, of course, the cliffside was only carved to _resemble_ exoskeletons, in which case, nothing ever lived in them. They were always empty, and would always be empty.

Despite the passing thought – no, – the passing _consideration of a possible threat in a giant shell,_ the vessel turned their attention away and focused on adjusting their eyes to the darkness. No light was provided in such a small space, besides what could manage to trickle in from the entrance.

Soon enough, the vessel could clearly make out Cornifer’s hunched figure. The weevil was hard at work, sketching up a brand new map for whomever stopped by to purchase from him.  
It was then that the vessel noted how quickly Cornifer worked: His hand in constant motion, rarely ever pausing to think. His eyes didn’t even look up to meet the vessel’s own, giving off the impression that this work took his entire concentration. One could see him breaking a sweat with how rigorously he toiled.  
It was no wonder that they would often miss out on bumping into Cornifer in other locations; as by that point, he was already long gone… likely having sketched up multiples of the same location over and over again.

They’ve been standing and staring at Cornifer for a few seconds now.  
This is weird. This is odd. This does not follow as usual.  
It wasn’t Cornifer’s blissful ignorance to the vessel’s presence that was so off, either. No.  
The vessel simply stood… and watched. Almost entranced by Cornifer’s quick, decisive movements. Almost as if they were in awe.  
Impressed…  
They wanted to sit down next to Cornifer and just watch him work.  
Their own maps were so scribbly and poorly managed, as they weren’t entirely sure how to make a “good” map. Perhaps they could learn from Cornifer… perhaps he’d be willing to teach them. Even if he didn’t, the vessel would be content to just-

“Oh!”  
The vessel snapped their head up. Cornifer was now looking up at them, though one hand clutched at his chest.  
“My word, you startled me!” He continued, laughing off any awkward tension that hung in the air. His shocked expression soon turned to a cheerful smile, as he casually turned back to his work. Considering he had just glanced up to find a strange creature giving them a dead stare, unmoving, no sign of them even _breathing_ – some would say he should’ve been a bit more concerned. Maybe he should be asking why they were staring at him. Maybe he should be uncomfortable in this situation.  
Instead, “Enjoying the bracing air? We’re quite close to Hallownest's borders and those desolate plains that surround it...”  
He just… kept talking. Completely unbothered. One could theorize that he’s grown used to the vessel’s stoic “personality,” but even this was a bit unusual for them.

The vessel blinked once, twice, and then looked around them. What just happened? They searched for a source in the room, coming to the conclusion that something in here had sabotaged them somehow… by… making them interested in how skilled Cornifer was.  
To be fair, that is a terrifying concept. Something that could force _thought_ onto them? _Intrigue?_ What next, were they going to start _enjoying an insect’s company?_

“…Are you looking for something?”  
Cornifer’s voice sliced through their focus. Their gaze fell on him again, and they noticed he had an eyebrow quirked to them in curiosity. After a few seconds of silence, the vessel opted to shake their head, and that satisfied Cornifer enough.  
“Well!” He started up again, barely deterred. He carefully lifted the parchment he had previously been sketching on, and turned to face the vessel again. “I've drawn out a small map for the area. It's a simple one and more for completion really. Not knowing the full extents of a region can be quite frustrating.”  
The weevil didn’t have to ask, for the vessel already knew the question. This was good, this was perfect… this was part of their pattern. This… they were familiar with.

Without another moment, they nodded, and rummaged through their cloak to find a small pouch. Opening it up, they emptied what geo they had onto their hand.  
…They then came to the horrible realization that they had a pitiful amount of geo. How could that be? Just before their journey into the Howling Cliffs, they had well over-  
Oh… that’s right… they had just purchased a lumafly lantern from the small shopkeeper in Dirtmouth. It _had_ been rather expensive…

“Not enough geo?” Cornifer piped up. The vessel, more delayed than usual, lifted their head. With a pause, they nodded, returning what little they had back to their pouch. Cornifer shrugged in return, though he didn’t seem annoyed in the slightest. “That’s alright. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be around these perilous cliff edges, but you’re more than welcome to pick up a copy of this map from our shop in town… once you have the geo, of course.”  
The vessel nodded once more, and Cornifer went right back to his work, his humming not even missing a beat.

Exiting the small cave, the vessel found themselves stopping at the edge. Their cloak flowed carelessly in the churning wind, and they didn’t even flinch as particles in the air landed into their eye sockets. They stood, and they felt nothing. That is how it should be.  
But it wasn’t. And they knew that.  
Something was going on. Something wasn’t right here, and they weren’t sure what. Their pattern was shattered, and it left them dumbfounded.  
What were they doing?  
Oh. Their eyes met with a faraway tiktik, which scampered away almost immediately. They suppose they should be collecting geo now.

Right? That should be their next task, shouldn’t it? They located Cornifer, they listened to Cornifer, they…  
They did not purchase a map from Cornifer. In order to do that, they need to collect geo. Easy, simple. They should get moving.  
But they didn’t.

…they were in deep thought.  
Which should not be possible.  
Which is exactly why they were thinking so hard. They shouldn’t be thinking.  
This doesn’t make any sense.  
Now they’re confusing themselves, which is even worse, because they weren’t even aware they could do that.

Okay, distraction. They need a distraction. They should hunt for geo. Not only will it distract them, but it will help them toward what they need. Yeah. Killing infected bugs does not require thought, nor will, nor emotion. All of which they do not possess.

  
So off they went, upward.  
And they did not kill a single insect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ghost, looking at Cornifer’s maps: it’s beautiful. I’ve been staring at this for five hours now


	2. A Distraction in a Lumafly's Glow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never should a vessel act on an impulse. Worse yet, they should never act based on feeling.   
> They do not have feelings.  
> I'm tired of writing that.
> 
> (In which I get too wrapped up in metaphors and forget the plot of what I'm writing.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> doN'T HATE ME BUT I GOT SIDETRACKED AGAIN, Mato wiLL BE IN CHAPTER THREE. I'm SERIOUS, I didn't end this where I wanted to because I kept it going to set it up so Ghost WILL meet Mato in the next chapter. Guys, guys you have to trust me, I know I literally just broke the promise I made on the last chapter, but guys, guys I mean it I'll do it next time I'm soRRY  
> Also wow, 8pm! That's a more reasonable time to post a chapter!  
> I didn't even glance back over this ya'll I just started writing and then kept writing and didn't stop

The concept of night and day is a strange one, especially when one is used to spending most of their time below ground. One can never be sure if time even passes, as they have no way of telling if a full day had already flown by. The kingdom of Hallownest had no sunlight, no stars to gaze upon, and no sky aside from the ceilings of stone and dirt.   
Even in Dirtmouth, there was little sky to behold. If one craned back their head, they’d see towering mountains looming above them, encircling the town and – subsequently – the kingdom. Aside from that, the sky was constantly shielded by clouds. Thick and suffocating, proving a nasty fog should it ever descend. Every time the vessel had surfaced from the well, the only light that was visible came from the lumaflies. There was no sign of a sun.  
Perhaps the vessel had only come up during the night.   
Perhaps this kingdom was doomed to face an eternal darkness.   
Perhaps days were simply far longer than they should be.

Whatever the explanation may be, it didn’t change the fact that the Howling Cliffs seemed just the slightest bit darker than before.

The air here was far from clear or calm. Even if it may feel like the vessel had cut through the veil of clouds that hung over Dirtmouth, it was more likely that they simply sat in the thick of it now. Any other insect would struggle to breathe at such altitudes or end up getting a mouth full of dust should they open their mouths.  
Luckily for the vessel, they had no need to breathe – nor did they have a mouth.

Which, of course, means they have no way to express themselves.  
That is what they are telling themselves, anyway. They’re exploring the Howling Cliffs more diligently now, despite not having a map to update with any discoveries they come across. Instead of cutting down the insects around them in an expedition for geo, their mind was sabotaged. Completely overtaken.   
They found themselves lost in _thought,_ of all things! They should not even have a mind in the first place!  
Hence why they were so exasperated and confused.  
Well, no. Not confused. They are not confused because they cannot be confused.  
They contemplated this as they reached a solid platform, reflecting on this odd set of circumstances they now found themselves in.  
Upon realizing they were thinking, and then realizing they were having realizations, they stomped their foot childishly. _This doesn’t make any sense!_ And since when did things have to make _sense,_ anyhow? The vessel was so used to just _doing._ No questions, no moments to consider it, nothing at all! They would walk, they would kill, they would follow their patterns. No ‘if’s, ‘and’s, or ‘but’s about it.

No matter how much they tried to _focus,_ to rip away from their mind (of which they _lack,_ of course) and turn back to the many insects they left unscathed, they were flooded with what they didn’t understand.

Okay, stop.   
They stopped.  
They then closed their eyes, and trained themselves to pay close attention to what they could hear.  
The whistling wind. Skittering of small tiktik legs. The _softest_ , most _delicate_ sound of a lumafly’s wings… trapped. Fluttering uselessly in a streetlight that they couldn’t escape.

The vessel’s eyes opened. They angled their head back to look up.  
They stood below one of the many lampposts that littered the Howling Cliffs. Two glass containers branched off on either side of it, each containing one lumafly. One sat still in its entrapment, unmoving. It made no attempt to escape. It had no will, for it had no mind. It had a purpose here, and its purpose was to give off light for the insects who were not accustomed to darkened locations. It had accepted its purpose, and it didn’t fight against it.  
Just as the vessel should be doing.  
However, they found their attention on the other lumafly. It thrashed against the glass, wings moving rapidly. There was no telling how long it had been struggling for, though one could make their own assumption based on the state of its wings. The poor insect’s wings were torn and falling to bits, likely caused by the constant movement in such a small space. Because of this, it gave off significantly less light than the one slightly above it, but it had no reason to care. Lumaflies had little need for their own glow, as they could see perfectly fine in the space around them – with or without it. However, if it kept up this bashing against something they couldn’t break out of, they would damage their wings so harshly they would never fly again. They would find themselves broken and useless, much like many siblings had done before them.  
They would ruin… themselves. They would lose their glow. They wouldn’t help anyone or anything, being a dull, worthless lamp that needed something new to take its place.

Suddenly, the glass shattered.  
This startled the other lumafly, causing them to finally flap their wings a couple of times in fear. Meanwhile, the one that had been freed turned to cling to the lamppost. They had no idea what to do with this new freedom laid out in front of them. They spent their whole life kept away from the world, forced into a task, and now…  
With hesitation, the lumafly left the post. After it managed to hover in place for a couple of seconds, there was no more reluctance.   
It took off into the sky, leaving glowing particles behind in its wake.

…the vessel looked down at the glass shards that covered the ground.  
They looked to the cause of the lantern’s destruction, and their eyes fell on their own nail, held tightly in their hand.  
They freed the lumafly.  
…but why?

For some reason, this action was the scariest they had ever done. Forget the many enemies they had faced until this point, forget the feeling of death overtaking them – they had just done something out of pure… what?  
Pity? Empathy? _Sympathy?  
_ The very notion terrified them… which was even worse.

They forced themselves to shake it off. They blinked once, then twice, and then turned away from the broken streetlight. They faced a part of the mountain that curved inward, leading down a narrow pathway. Without anymore distractions, they dashed toward it, running as far away as they could from the evidence of their outburst.

They sprinted through the tunnel, coming out on the other side and being faced with a large opening between the cliffs. This hardly processed, as the vessel just kept going. They dodged vengeflies, hopped down and up platforms, moving as quickly as they could manage. Their bodies could not ache from overexertion, so they needn’t worry about tiring out their legs.

 _I CANNOT WORRY.  
_ Correct. They are incapable of such a thing.

 _I CANNOT FEEL.  
_ Of course. They were made that way.  
  
 _I CANNOT DESIRE.  
_ That is without question.

So blinded by their own contradictory act of beating themselves up with the idea of not being able to conjure up ideas, they didn’t even notice the warrior spirit’s shouts; and they ran right off the platform.  
The only thing to finally snap them out of their self-induced trance was their face colliding with the stone ground, narrowly missing a field of stalagmites that would’ve impaled them on the spot. This was after falling from quite a distance, and it was a miracle that their mask didn’t split with the impact.

They wasted no time forcing themselves to their feet, and such a quick action caused them to dizzy and topple over again. They fell right into the husk of a deceased insect, causing a part of it to cave in.   
There they sat, then. Halfway inside of a dead bug’s husk. Not even noticing the nail stabbed into the ground beside it.  
They weren’t even going to wonder how they managed to feel dizzy. Wondering was the problem, here.  
It happened. Move on, don’t dwell, it means nothing.

 _… But -  
_ Move on.

 _But I -  
_ Don’t dwell.

And so they didn’t.  
Shakily, they used the body they leaned against as leverage to stand once more. They left behind quite a grotesque display, having crushed the carapace of the corpse.   
They paid it no mind as their eyes caught sight of another cavern to their left. Forgetting completely about the warrior spirit above them, they made their way through. They did not run this time. Injuring themselves would make it needlessly more difficult to complete their task.

Which was to… uhm… their task was to…

It didn’t matter. They’d remember. They had to remember. They’d get their pattern back, and forget this ever happened.

Getting through the tunnel, they came across… what looked like a doorway. Sharp nails could be seen hanging from above, threatening to relentlessly stab any intruders. It was mildly threatening, but the vessel was unbothered. Peering inside, they could clearly make out light. This was… a building, or hut, of sorts. Nestled deep within the very cliff’s walls themselves, camouflaged as the dull blue of the doorframe matched the rest of its stone exterior.

 _…Should I - ?_  
Yes. Don’t question it. Walk inside.  
Shutting down their own mind, of which they refused to believe exists, they entered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after writing about Ghost staring at things for three chapters, I keep seeing some sort of shitpost with this audio:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nPI8U1jKn-0  
> and if you can't already tell, my self control is bad, so uh...... ya'll i....


	3. Settle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A vessel meets someone new. It's such a shame that said vessel has to be suffering in silence due to their mental state during their meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MATO IS HERE!!!!! Look see guys I didn't break the promise this time, you can TRUST me, I SWEAR. I would never HURT you 
> 
> Anyway, I'm thinking I have one more chapter planned, then it might end. Unless I get sidetracked and end up adding more. Which... i mean... you have already seen what happens, so let's just say it's likely
> 
> Also because of my unshakable fear of screwing up dialogue, literally everything Mato says here is just his dialogue in game, with some slight modifications for circumstance.
> 
> I DID read back over this chapter! For TYPOS and that's it, so I mean there's probably grammar mistakes or clunky sentences somewhere still but oof

The change in air and atmosphere was so sudden, it would’ve caused anyone else to audibly gasp.

Exiting the cold embrace of the outside, the vessel found themselves in a small room. Rather than feel their cloak thrash around in harsh gusts, or the slightest sting of sand filling the void where eyes should lay, everything fell still here. One could still hear the _woosh_ of the winds, but this place proved to protectively shield one from being thrown off their feet.

Their attention shifted toward a large mask on the wall. Four horns curved upward, facing the ceiling, and the mask’s four eyes almost seemed to glare right through the vessel. Said eyes almost appeared to be leaking a strange black substance, pouring down as if they were crying…   
That, or those were just cracks in the mask, creating a haunting display that merely mimicked a face stained with tears.   
For a moment or two, the vessel only gazed back, as if maintaining eye contact with something that could not do the same.

Then they forced themselves to turn away, instead heading forward through a hallway; toward a bright orange glow through the door at the end…  
Upon noticing the cursed color that contrasted harshly with the rest of the cobalt interior, the vessel unsheathed their nail. They quickened their pace, preparing to strike down the creature ahead that carried such a nasty case of infection. A noticeable warmth accompanied the amber shine, threatening to flood from the room and engulf them. Light danced along the walls, casting a shadow behind the vessel as they fearlessly approached the source.

Once they pushed past the door, nail at the ready - they stopped in their tracks.  
Oh.   
That’s not an infected insect.

A bright flame flickered from the center of an open room. The walls were far taller than the previous, and the vessel hadn’t even noticed the enormous weaponry that littered the walls and ground. Demolished husks and masks of unidentifiable insects were strewn about, creating quite an ominous or uncomfortable scene… if the vessel… managed to _look up.  
_ Instead of scanning their surroundings for a potential threat, their gaze was completely fixed on the fire. It was slowly devouring a stack of firewood underneath it, and any ember that touched the stone ground would burn out in an instant. A light was shining from above, casting a ray down upon the flares and creating an illusion of something grander. As if this fire was more dangerous than it appeared to be.

The vessel was absolutely entranced by it. They had seen small fires before – lit torches, for instance – but had never been so close to… anything beyond that size. It was warm, and _soothing,_ and…

Their nail lowered as they took hesitant steps towards it. They were not used to anything that gave off heat, as their own body was comprised of the freezing clutches of void. Often, they could not feel differences in temperature, as it was nullified by how cold they were… however, this… they could _feel_ it. They were _comforted_ by it, even. So much so that they wanted to go towards it… and sit by it… and _stare…_

No, NO, _NO.  
_ Their own acknowledgement of their uncharacteristic actions was so dramatic that they stumbled backwards, tripping over themselves and landing on their rear side. Before they could raise their hands to their head and try internally screaming away any emotion, will, or thoughts that may be lurking in the depths of their mind, they heard a sound.

“Hm?”  
Instead of scrambling to their feet and raising their weapon in anticipation, the vessel only lifted their gaze.   
Oh, Wyrm.

On the opposite side of the fire sat a large insect. Three horns were present atop of their head, and a red bandanna slightly covered the top of their eyes. A massive – in comparison to the vessel – blue fur coat was draped around their body, almost completely covering them. Even sitting hunched over, they towered above the vessel, and would likely be incredibly formidable in a fight… especially with the nail that sat to their side, which was twice the vessel’s size.

Huh. How had the vessel _not_ noticed them beforehand?

The two of them maintained some sort of awkward eye contact for a few moments, neither saying a word. The vessel realized they should… _probably_ do something. The other person in the room seemed too baffled at the moment to say much of anything.   
They didn’t have time to get angry at themselves for having a realization, so they just carefully stood to their feet, keeping their eyes trained on the larger insect. That seemed mutual, as both of them were hyper aware of the other.

Okay, the vessel doesn’t understand any concept of embarrassment, but if they _did,_ they would already be running far away from this place and vowing to never return.   
To show that they feel no shame because they feel nothing, they are already turning around to quickly leave, and vowing never to ret-

“Wait!” A voice called, and the vessel froze in place. Oh, good! They still understand how to follow commands, anyway.  
They turned back to the larger insect, and were almost surprised to see a look of amusement on his face. _Almost._ Because they don’t feel surpr-  
“Well met, young warrior!” He continued, apparently overall unbothered by this stranger in his home. Granted, he probably didn’t get many visitors this far out. His gaze fell on the nail strapped to the vessel’s back, and his expression brightened more. “Yes, I thought I could sense the aura of a fierce warrior approaching.”

Fierce warrior?  
The vessel turned to look behind them, then reversed the action to eye this weird bug again. If they had eyebrows - or emotions - they would be furrowed in confusion.  
“Don’t act so modest, small one!” The insect laughed at the vessel’s reaction, before casually keeping up this one-sided conversation. “I'm impressed you found my sanctuary here at the top of the world. No doubt you've endured many trials and overcome many foes in your quest to find me.”

The vessel nearly shook their head in an attempt to communicate that they hadn’t come up here with the _intention_ of finding this place, but they were stopped by the raise of a hand.  
“No, don't speak a word. I, Nailmaster Mato, who was taught the Art of the Nail by the Great Nailsage himself, hereby accept you as my pupil!”

Wait, what?   
Before any objections could be given, Mato suddenly jumped to his feet. It was almost surprising how an insect of his size managed to be so agile, but the vessel had no time at all to ponder that. His cloak parted to reveal rusted red armor adorning his shell, though in remarkably good shape; considering… one could only assume that this armor in particular has been through years of wear.  
Mato slung his greatnail over his shoulder, pridefully gleaming down at his new trainee. His eyes shone with something that the vessel didn’t understand, but they had barely even processed what was going on either way.

“Let us begin the lesson immediately!”

Alright, alright, it was time to slow down. The vessel made a show of their reluctance by backing away, only to be faced with an expression of suddenly soft kindness from the nailmaster.  
“My pupil, why do you hesitate? Do you think yourself unworthy of my Nail Art?”

No, that wasn’t it at all. Honestly, the vessel wasn’t even sure what was going on anymore. One moment they were in the Howling Cliffs, the next they were entranced by maps, then lumaflies, then _flames_ , and now they were being propositioned to train.   
Better yet, during all of this madness, they were THINKING about how ODD it all was.

They were _confused._ They were _utterly baffled._ They were _completely perplexed.  
_ And at this point, they were too confused over the fact that they were confused to even dispute themselves against it. Denial wasn’t getting them anywhere, as thoughts kept persisting no matter _what_ they did, and thinking about those thoughts only made it worse! They trapped themselves in a loop, lost in their own mind due to the fact that they shouldn’t be _able_ to get lost in their own mind! Because they _should not have a mind to begin with!_

This distress must’ve been clear, somehow, as Mato’s energy inexplicably toned down a few levels. He lowered his nail to the ground, his own face almost solemn with a sort of understanding.  
“Do not fret. I too was once like you, unsure of my own strength.”  
The vessel faced Mato with what must have been the most colorful exasperation one could see on a blank canvas.  
The nailmaster couldn’t suppress a chuckle, opting to fall back to his position on the floor. The whiplash of the situation was far too much for the vessel to handle, and they would’ve let out a loud whine of stress if they had the ability to do so.

Mato made a gesture with his hand that the vessel understood as ‘sit down.’   
“Stay here with me and meditate, and once you are ready, we can begin the lesson.”

The vessel hesitated. Because of course they did.  
Scratch that earlier affirmation that they still undoubtedly followed directions.

Mato’s eyes closed as he covered himself with his coat, not even waiting to see if the vessel decided to stay or not. Whether that was out of carelessness toward whether or not they did as he asked, or an unwavering faith that the vessel would sit down… it was likely the latter.

It only took a few seconds for Mato’s assumption to be correct, as the vessel soon found themselves sitting cross-legged in front of the fire.  
…They let themselves believe that they were doing this because Mato ‘demanded’ it, and not because of any desire to stay here… where it was warm… and safe from infection… and with a large insect that didn’t plan to hurt them…

Before they knew it, their eyes fell closed, and they lost themselves further in the crackling of the flames.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay NOTE: Yeah I know Mato doesn't have a fire in his house, but heaR ME OUT there's reasoning behind it! And no it's not just for a cheap fakeout of Mato potentially being infected I would never do that to you guys  
> I wanted Mato's hut to be a source of light, but I didn't want to use lumafly lanterns because of the whole symbolism-metaphor nonsense I have built around them. It'd seem kinda weird for Ghost to free a lumafly only to enter a hut where someone else is keeping lumaflies captured for light...... so fire, and then the whole 'fire pretty wow stare' scene just wrote itself and fit my plot so it worked out hurray
> 
> Yes I DO feel a need to explain every little thing I do I'm SORRY,
> 
> and yeah there might've been some foreshadowing somewhere in here but I'll never tell


	4. To Ease One's Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A vessel receives some advice from their supposed new teacher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> STumbles down the staIRS  
> So there's going to be another chapter after this
> 
> Somehow I got really bold with writing dialogue for Mato and went a bit too far off, and now you get to watch as I go full philosophical nonsense and. i am feral  
> also OOPS Ghost has some sort of,, flashback there at the beginning. I have to redo the tags again hrhmpg
> 
> This chapter got so much longer than the others because I just KEPT WRITING MATO'S DIALOGUE AND COULDN'T STOP, anyway here u go, i didn't read back over this at all i'm fueled off of caffeine and a writing high

The void is cold.

This wasn’t an opinion, and it wasn’t up for debate.

The void is absolutely freezing.

It was so dark here, too. No light could part the black that surrounded them. A frigid abyss weighed heavy on their being, holding them close. Suffocating, isolating, unrelenting –

And worst of all, cold.

They felt numb. They supposed that this was normal, as it was all they’d ever known. It was almost comforting in that sense… felt like home. Felt _right._   
There was no room for doubts nor fears. There was no room for sadness nor anger. There was no room for joy nor kindness.  
There was no room for warmth.

So why could they feel it, just out of reach?   
Just beyond the shadows… something ached. It stung, even. Burned. Seared through them. Scorched them.   
_It hurts. It hurts, it hurts so much, the agony is so overwhelming that they want to scream. They want to shriek into the still air around them and inflict suffering onto those that had wronged them. They want to relieve themselves of this misery and push it unto what it stemmed from. They want, they want, they WANT –_

The crackling. It’s sickening. Disturbing, terrible, horrid – they know what that sound is. A smash and a crack, a silent scream in every sizzle, the smell of charcoal and wood set aflame.  
Thousands, _thousands of them, there’s so many of us… they’re cold, they’re freezing, they’re in pain – I want to help them, I want it to stop, I want to help them –_

_I’m cold._

* * *

Their eyes opened.  
The fire had gone out, and they sat still in a silent room. The walls, no longer lit up by the glow of a flame, were tinted a melancholy blue. The light that shone from above now cascaded down upon nothing but ashes; the final remnants of the firewood.  
The vessel registered where they were, and they then noticed that Mato’s head was still facing down. Had he not noticed the fire going out, too lost in meditation? Or had he simply not cared?  
…Or was he asleep?

The vessel did not know.   
Any other time, they likely wouldn’t have cared, either.   
They should stand up and leave now. They can come back later, if someone decrees it necessary to do so. Perhaps this nailmaster held a key role in their journey. Perhaps they’d find out one day.  
Right now, though, it didn’t matter. They had no reason to be here.

So, they stood, and they left.  
At least, that’s what they would’ve done, if some unknown part of them hadn’t urged them toward the larger insect and coerced them into gently shaking him.   
At this point, they weren’t even going to bother asking themselves why they did that. They felt strangely calmer now, and the last thing they wanted was to inflict that trainwreck of distressed confusion onto themselves again.

Mato stirred, and the vessel wasn’t entirely convinced that the nailmaster hadn’t fallen asleep. His movements were slower, and his eyes blinked blearily a couple of times. Then again, maybe that had just been some “deep meditation” or something… much like whatever had just gone on in the vessel’s mind just seconds before.   
That reminded them, what _was_ that little spell they just went through? It almost felt like some buried memory, locked far behind them and buried underneath years of mindlessness. They rarely ever thought about their past, since it held no purpose for their future… but to be fair, they rarely ever _thought._ Since they _weren’t supposed to._   
No, no, no. They just told themselves that they weren’t going down that road again. No more of that.

The larger bug’s eyes soon fell upon them, and he regained the kind expression that he had worn before. He seemed pleased at the notion that the vessel had remained with him, as if he ever doubted that they’d do otherwise.   
That look of pure, serene happiness set off some sort of spark in the vessel’s mind; of which they guess existed now. They didn’t understand why, but they were comforted by that gaze. Almost like something swelled up inside them, and they wanted to hold onto it forever.   
It felt like home. It felt right.

“My pupil,” Mato started, causing the vessel to snap to attention immediately. “Has the meditation helped you clear your mind of doubt?”

Oddly enough, yes.  
The vessel chose not to answer, however, only blankly staring.

“Mm, I see,” Mato’s cloak shifted as he extended an arm, and his hand lightly fell on the top of the Vessel’s head. “Your meditation was plagued by dark memories, wasn’t it? Do not fret, my pupil – I understand it all too well.”

The vessel barely heard what the nailmaster was saying, as all focus was on the hand that sat between their horns. Their body had tensed at the contact, locking up and not moving an inch. If they needed to breathe, that breath would’ve caught in their throat, and they would be on the road to fainting due to a lack of oxygen.  
They had never been touched so carefully before. Every creature before Mato had struck them, sliced them, burned and beaten them. Their instinct was to whip out their nail and slash at the nailmaster, before beginning a life-threatening battle. However, before they could act on such an irrational impulse, the nailmaster’s hand drew away.

He seemed to have noticed that reaction. “…Worse than I thought.”   
The vessel relaxed a tad, though they were unreasonably upset to see that the nailmaster’s expression turned solemn. It was likely in an empathetic sense, but the vessel was – astoundingly – displeased with the erasure of the happier atmosphere.   
They acknowledged how wrong it was to feel that way, and how wrong it was to feel in general, and used all of their power to shove it all down. If emotion was now something they had to deal with, they’d do that in the only way they knew how: Silencing it.

They noticed the nailmaster studying them. As if he could see the conflict in the vessel’s psyche, and what he saw saddened him.   
There were no words for a time, until Mato spoke up again. His voice was soft, and it was so odd for someone that was so excitable just hours ago.

“You struggle with your mind, do you not?”  
The vessel nearly shook their head. That’s how they would’ve responded any other time, since that is what they believed to be true.  
Instead, they found themselves reluctantly nodding.  
With a sigh – though not in annoyance or frustration, as the vessel was used to hearing – the nailmaster continued.

“The mind is a complicated place. Some consider it a palace; where they can hide away from the world, losing themselves and distancing from those around them. Their mind may be the only place they find comfort, should the outside world be cruel… as some may argue that it is, now.

“Others may see it in an opposite fashion,” He gave the vessel a knowing glance. “They see their minds as a sort of nuisance. They may find themselves hating how it dictates their very lives, causing them to act on impulses that they harshly berate themselves for in the future. The mind that holds onto memories that are better forgotten, constantly reminding the host of every wrong they or others have done. Some may argue how dangerous this can make the mind… as it is so unpredictable. Holding onto grudges, creating ideas that may end in disaster, creating doubt in every shot one does and does not take…

“But the mind can be controlled, my pupil.” Mato faced them again, seeing as they intently listened to every word he spoke. It caused his eyes to squint as though he were smiling, which in turn had the vessel perking up more. “Like the art of the Nail, there is a sort of art to keeping tabs on one’s own thoughts and emotions. Those who manage to keep themselves stable and happy in the worst of situations are stronger than those who wield the largest of blades.”

The vessel leaned forward expectantly, as if awaiting to hear a great secret. This forced Mato to stifle a laugh, though a chuckle slipped out despite his efforts.   
“Do not misunderstand me, my pupil,” He lightly warned. “Even the strongest of minds must allow themselves to feel freely. Releasing that bottled emotion is the first step to managing it well, lest the pressure of holding it down grows too strong to bear.”  
The vessel was averse to that. This would be made clear if they could physically emote as they could mentally, as they would be furrowing their brows and looking to the nailmaster with irritation. They didn’t want to feel emotion in the first place, as they weren’t supposed to. Expressing it or _allowing_ themselves to indulge in their own thoughts would be even _worse._

Mato seemed to pick up on that. He failed to conceal his amusement this time around, which the vessel did not appreciate.  
“I understand being opposed to such an idea. It will not be easy, especially if you’ve been burying these feelings for so long.”  
The vessel would pout if they could. Actually, no, they wouldn’t, because that would be making their distaste obvious. They don’t feel distaste. They don’t feel anything.  
…  
For some reason, repeating this now seemed rather pointless.

“However!” Mato’s tone changed abruptly, startling the vessel for a moment. He wasted not another second in getting to his feet, standing tall above them. Being so much closer to him, the vessel nearly had to crank their head back a full nighty degrees to maintain eye contact.  
“It just so happens that I, Nailmaster Mato, have already accepted you as my pupil!”   
While that is true, that ‘acceptance’ was more like a declaration of fact without the other’s input. Not that the vessel could give much input, but -   
“Therefore, it is my job to make sure you are well! Physically _and_ mentally!”

Oh.

“It would be unwise to face the world armed for battle when one’s mind is already at war with itself! Therefore, you need to be taught how to prepare your mind as _well_ as your nail!” Mato pointed out matter-of-factly.   
The vessel supposed that made sense. They had been tripping over themselves and running from confrontation ever since this mental turmoil had begun… so perhaps this nailmaster had a point.

The vessel considered this for a bit, before scolding themselves for considering.   
_Clearly,_ this was akin to a _command,_ right? So they _had_ to let this run its course. There was no need to consider anything. It’s not as if they were choosing to stay out of their own will, because that is something they lack.  
Right?

They were about to get frustrated with themselves again, so they opted to abandon all reasoning. They didn’t need a reason! Because a reason suggested a mind. They didn’t need a mind, either, but now they supposed… they had one. However unfortunate that may be.

They decided to stare down the nailmaster for a few solid seconds, before giving him a firm nod without another moment to think.  
Because they don’t th–

“Ah, I can see it in your eyes!” It was as if the fire had relight, but this time, it was in Mato’s very being. “You’re ready to learn! Shall we begin the lesson immediately?”

Without giving themselves a moment of hesitation, the vessel nodded, and the training begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hello welcome to my mental health class, my name is Mato and I'll be your dad today"


	5. Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you get someone to feel emotion when they otherwise refuse to do so?
> 
> You piss them off.
> 
> (Featuring a Mato Perspective switch for a bit!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you're thinking that the summary is a joke but no that's legit what happens
> 
> Also haHA, you expected encouraging dad moment, but what you got was angry children! It's over, I have the high ground
> 
> Anyway, I'm actually pretty confident that the next chapter will be the last! This is pretty much what I wanted to get across in the first place, and the last chapter will just solidify it. I've got one more gut punch in store and then it'll all be over folks.  
> As a warning, this was meant to be the FLUFFY fic. The other fics I have planned are literally just angst, hurt no comfort  
> so, as you can see, maybe writing fluff isn't my specialty and I should stick with beating people's hearts into the ground
> 
> we'll see!!   
> Again didn't read over but you should expect this by now

“Again!”

Spin, spin, spin, fall.

“Again!”

Spin, spin, fall.

_“Again!”_

Spin, spin, spin, spin – oh look, they’ve got it! – fall.

This had to be the hundredth time that the vessel had stumbled and landed harshly to the ground. They tried, uselessly, to get this right – over and over and over. Stand up, twirl with their nail in hand. Then go crashing into the floor.   
This was simple! This wasn’t hard to understand! It was literally just spinning around and flailing their nail! Why couldn’t they get this right?!

It was _frustrating!_

…And Mato was well aware of this.  
The nailmaster stood off to the side, leaning against a wall and watching as the vessel continued to fail. Every time they fell, he ordered them to try it again. It was unrelenting. Nonstop and nonsensical.  
No pauses in between.   
No time to gain their balance again.   
And, occasionally, only a word or two of advice from Mato. Rarely was it anything helpful.  
“Tilted a bit too far to the left that time.”  
“That swing was too violent, nearly lost your nail!”  
Or, as irritating as a simple “not quite.”

The vessel was getting very impatient. Incredibly so. They tried within the best of their ability to simultaneously perfect this move _and_ lock up their resentment. This pesky new “mind” was really getting in the way!  
It would be _kind_ of Mato to step in and _show_ the vessel what to do, but instead, he just threw in some vague commentary when he saw necessary. It certainly didn’t help that Mato was clearly getting a kick out of this; doing a poor job of concealing his laughter.  
It didn’t come across as taunting or cruel, but it was still enough to get into the vessel’s head.

Which is exactly what Mato wanted.

* * *

This was far from what Mato would usually do as a teaching method.   
Well. What he would usually do if he ever had a pupil before this.

Either way, Mato always envisioned himself helping his students every step of the way. With encouragement, with intricate lessons complete with tips and tricks, and with an assurance that they needn’t master anything overnight. Any art form takes years to properly master, and it is essential to take one’s time. Pressuring oneself into overexertion was never healthy.  
It could cause them to grow stressed. To lash out. To get _upset._

_To get angry._

Mato could remember it well. A sparring session between his master and his brother.  
Oro had a tendency to close himself off. To fall into a state of self-induced isolation, breaking away from reality and refusing to communicate. He would hide away from his brothers, snapping at any that prodded, until he would finally resurface… blank.   
Acting as if it never happened.   
He’d prefer to sweep it away, put on a neutral face, and hold down any emotion he felt. Drown it, if he had to.

Their master had taken notice.  
The Great Nailsage had many training techniques. Many arts needed many different methods of teaching. Some needed patience, others needed an understanding of patterns, and some just needed sheer willpower.

So, taking note of Oro’s despondence, the master ordered him to learn a new nail art.   
All three brothers were confused by that wording. The Nailsage was not offering a lesson to Oro. He was commanding him to learn something new with little to no assistance.  
The only help that their master provided was a single demonstration, and then he demanded that Oro copy him perfectly.

Oro tried, and he failed.  
 _Again.  
_ He tried again. He failed.  
 _Again!  
_ Growing annoyed now, he tried again. Failure.  
 _AGAIN!_

This went on for several hours. Oro progressively got angrier and angrier, swinging wildly and without focus. He ripped shreds into a training dummy, landing chaotic blow after blow until finally –

He caved.  
He fell to his knees, and he cried.

It was the first Mato had ever seen his brother so broken down. Both Mato and his third brother, Sheo, had looked to each other with a shared concern and confusion, almost starting to question their master’s teachings.

That was until the Nailsage calmly moved to Oro, and lay a hand upon his shoulder.

“Knowing when to release one’s emotions is essential to mastering any skill. If you plan to put all of your focus into burying yourself, that is where you will end – six feet into the ground.”  
Oro wouldn’t face his superior, overcome by shame. The Nailsage forced him to do so, by using a hand to lift his chin up.   
“You will not suppress yourself any longer. You and your brothers honor me beyond words, and I will not stand by to let you destroy yourself.”  
He shot a look at Mato and Sheo, making sure to clarify, “This goes for you both as well.”

To everyone’s surprise, that is when Oro hesitantly reached out and hugged his master. Carefully, of course, so not to harm the smaller one.  
The Nailsage reciprocated the gesture, and that moment was the topic of conversation between Mato and Oro for a long time after.

Oro may not have shown it much, but he took his superior’s words to heart. From that point on, his seclusions became less frequent, and he tried to speak his mind more often.

…That was until he abandoned the lot of them years into the future, but Mato chose to ignore that detail for now.

* * *

A _swing,_ a _thud,_ and then a loud _CRASH._

The vessel was absolutely infuriated. To the point that they completely forgot that they weren’t even supposed to feel fury.  
They had grown so tired of constant failures that they finally gave up, throwing their nail to the ground and stomping like a toddler. They wanted to shout and yell, to shriek a war cry into the air before driving their nail into the head of any infected insect. They wanted to rant their little head off about how POINTLESS this was, and how AGGRAVATING it is that this supposed Nailmaster isn’t even _helping_ them!

They _wanted._ They desired to release this pent-up frustration. It didn’t even occur to them how wrong that was.

They ended up raising their hands to make many vaguely understandable gestures of rage. Pointing to the nail, pointing to themselves, making their hands into fists and punching the air – they did everything in their power to show how _upset_ this whole ordeal made them feel.  
They didn’t even _care_ anymore!

Nailmaster Mato just watched from his post, letting the tiny thing let it all out. He had already gathered that the small creature couldn’t speak, so it was admittedly interesting to see how they went about venting.  
Lots of gestures, pacing, and kicking their nail so far.

The funniest thing about this was how their face remained entirely expressionless. Their body language gave away all of what they thought, but their face… nothing at all. It was an entertaining contrast, to say the least.

Finally, after a solid ten minutes of silent screaming, the vessel childishly fell onto their back, on the floor, and laid there. Their arms crossed. Quietly seething to themselves.  
The Nailmaster removed himself from the wall, casually heading towards the discarded nail. He leaned down to pick it up between his claws, and checked it for any new dents or cracks. Last thing his pupil needed right now was a broken nail.  
It came out considerably unscathed. Mato stood again, humming softly as he made his way to his small trainee on the floor. He sat down beside them, before peering down at them with that soft gaze that helped calm them down.

The vessel made a noncommittal hand movement toward their nail before crossing their arms again, now looking up at the nailmaster with what they hoped came across as an accusatory stare that called him out on his betrayal. They got a gentle snicker in return, which they really wanted to pout about.

Now that they weren’t fuming, they only _then_ realized what just transpired.

Their anger dropped like a rock, and was replaced with a surge of… fear? Shock? Disbelief?  
Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.  
They just FELT. They had been _desiring_ things. They had not only been _feeling_ emotion, but _EXPRESSING_ it. No, no, no. No, that can’t be right. That didn’t just happen. Was this some sort of elaborate trick on the Nailmaster’s part? They felt that it was very likely, but they should not be feeling! How can they trust anything this “mind” of theirs says? Because there shouldn’t be a mind! There shouldn’t be anything! There shouldn’t be –

“Calm down, my pupil,” Mato soothed. The vessel hated that, because it meant their shift in mentality was noticeable. Despite that sentiment, the vessel tried to obey, attempting to clear their head. “You passed this first lesson with flying colors.”

Wait, what?  
They blinked up at him. But they failed? _Numerous_ times? That didn’t make any sense.

“Well, yes, you failed to master the nail art,” He spoke nonchalantly, though was sure to follow up this statement once he saw the vessel deflate in shame. “You succeeded in expressing yourself. You showed me pure, unadulterated fury – and that is exactly what I wanted to see from you.”

But that was _bad._ That’s the _opposite_ of what they wanted to do.   
They tried to convey this by shaking their head, but the nailmaster stopped them with a simple raise of the hand.  
“Freeing that trapped emotion is the first step of learning to properly control it, my pupil. One’s feelings should not be held under lock and chain for one’s entire life. Now that your temperament is unbound, I’m sure you’ll notice the positive effects.”

The vessel had a hard time understanding that. They blinked a couple of times to articulate that confusion. Which they shoul _dn’t be f-_

“See for yourself,” Mato held the vessel’s blade out for them. “Try it once more. With feeling.”

Unsure, the vessel stood to their feet. They slowly took their nail from the nailmaster’s grasp, and they turned away. They approached the center of the room, and stood completely still.

They were nervous.

 _No, they can’t feel nervous. They don’t have a-  
_ They were _nervous._

 _That is not possible, they cannot.  
_ …  
They _weren’t_ nervous.

 _Because they are unable to b-  
_ Because they were _confident._

Taking up the stance, they timed it perfectly -   
and completed the most flawless demonstration of the Cyclone Slash that the Nailmaster had ever seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna take this moment now to say "Hey! I love getting comments! Give em to me"  
> I'm always open to constructive criticism, and I also just,, really love reading people's thoughts on my writing either way so sgjh,, gimmie gimmie  
> Even if you give really harsh criticism, as long as you're not just blatantly insulting me for a paragraph or so then I am more than open to advice n such!! It is simply delicious to me
> 
> Also I've been making fanart now of HK, some of which includes some art that relates to this fic- I dunno if anyone's interested but,, I have it :,)


	6. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pattern is broken.
> 
> But old habits die hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So,,,,, hear me out  
> It's 3:30am
> 
> I'm not. Sure what possessed me there with the ending, but let's just say:  
> The tag "flagrant abuse of repetition as a literary device" REALLY comes into play with this one
> 
> I actually /did/ read over this chapter, but also, it's almost 4am now, I'm incredibly tired
> 
> edit the next day: Listen, listen nobody noticed that I wrote "unpure", which is not a word, instead of "impure" multiple times. guys guys listen. listen it didn't happen, let's mutually agree to ignore that okay

A stunned silence had stolen the room for a few moments.  
The vessel looked to the nailmaster, and the nailmaster looked to the vessel. They both held this mutual feeling of shocked awe, both unmoving and speechless, until something changed in the vessel.

They suddenly began to bounce on their feet. Something swelled up inside them, almost like a surge of power that coursed through nonexistent veins. They felt light and weightless, they felt like they held the world in their hand, and they _felt –_

…

Yes. That’s what this was.

They felt _happy._

Scratch that, they were _gleeful._ Overjoyed! Stock full of a newfound energy! So much so that they did it again: spinning and swinging their nail in perfect arcs. Then again, and again, and again! Without being ordered to do so! They felt so _free,_ as if they could stand here and twirl for hours and hours and nothing could stop them.  
They got it! They really got it!

Even more encouraging was the nailmaster’s own enthusiasm. Once he snapped out of his own surprise, he gave a hearty laugh toward the small one’s excitement. He watched as they spun and spun, losing themselves in their own motion. There were a few slip ups here and there, but the vessel didn’t even seem to notice. That, or they cared no more for imperfections.

Overcome with a sense of pride in his pupil, the nailmaster wasted no time getting to his feet and clapping for them. This obviously fueled the vessel even more, as they grew wilder and more experimental with their movements. Leaping into the air and rotating so fast they could’ve hovered there, combining the Cyclone Slash with their spells; it was a full performance of child-like giddiness.  
One that seized their mind.  
And they didn’t even question it.

Of course, they eventually found themselves far too dizzy, and their beautifully executed dance of nails came to an end when they fell to the floor with a _thump._  
Be it any previous time, the vessel would’ve just got up and stoically moved forward. Maybe they would’ve spent ages deducing why they messed up, or maybe they wouldn’t think about it at all.

Now, however – their body just shook. Not a sound came from them, but it didn’t take a genius to realize that they were _laughing._ Honestly, a better description would be _giggling nonsensically.  
_ So caught up in their achievement. So proud of themselves. So _thrilled,_ which was something new in of itself.

And they certainly weren’t complaining about it this time.

They hadn’t even noticed that the nailmaster had hurried over to them after they had fallen, checking to make sure they were alright. The vessel warily sat up, their hand to their head in an attempt to make it stop reeling, but they managed to assure Mato with a thumbs up.

“That was quite a show!” Mato exclaimed with nothing but delight. “Your form… Exquisite! Now I know how my own master felt when he passed his teachings down to us.”  
The praise had the vessel feeling even better, especially since they rarely received such words.  
Come to think of it, when _was_ the last time they were praised? They weren’t quite sure, since they never before had to ponder such a thing, but the scarcity of compliments in their time made this moment all the sweeter.

Best of all, Mato now wore that caring expression that the vessel felt so alleviated by. They were still unsure _why_ it was so welcoming, but they were more than glad to see it once more. How unfortunate it was that they couldn’t properly show this appreciation.  
Or, if they could, they had no clue how.

That is when Mato rose again, offering a hand to his pupil to help them stand.  
…He then received a blank look that explained to him that this strange creature was clueless as to what that gesture meant.

“It is alright, my pupil,” He tried, choosing his words carefully. He knew that his student had some trouble with physical contact, but he hoped to aid them where he could. “Take my hand. I’m not going to hurt you.”

The vessel blinked, and their eyes landed on the outstretched hand. Their mind flashed to the various instances of insects hurling towards them with arms flailing, some screaming in pain or malice before they would strike their shell. They thought of the way their eyes shone with that deadly orange, some even dripping with such a cursed color… and they compared those memories to Mato.  
He had his moments where he was excitable, sure… but never had he come across hostile. Not once had he aggressively raised his voice toward the vessel, and they had not seen a single trace of that dastardly infection in him.

…and he taught them how to feel.

Mato almost gave up after a few seconds, beginning to pull his hand back when the vessel’s own hand reached for it. Mato was a bit surprised, but it was drowned out by his own minor sense of accomplishment. A step in the right direction.

When the vessel’s hand fell in his, he gave it a reassuring squeeze before he helped them to their feet. He was then taken aback by how _frigid_ their hand was!

“By the Wyrm, you’re freezing!” He proclaimed, leading the vessel to misunderstand that as a bad thing and begin pulling their arm back. Mato was quick to stop them, with some added reassurance. “No, no, don’t you worry, my pupil. I’ll get that fire started up again soon enough, I promise.”  
The vessel would like that. The vessel would like that very much.

Mato then released their hand, and the vessel’s arm simply stayed in place. The nailmaster turned to tend to the firewood, but the vessel just… stood there, and began to stare at their own lifted hand.

Mato’s grip had been firm, yet not constricting. He had evidently been giving the vessel an out if they were uncomfortable and wanted to slip their hand away, but they hadn’t taken it.  
In fact, they really wanted Mato to hold their hand again. It had been soothing in a way that the vessel didn’t comprehend. They had felt protected. Safe. As if they’d be completely content to have Mato guide them through the remaining of their arduous trials while firmly grasping onto their hand the whole time.

And they would be.

Which was foreign. Foreign was bad, right? At least, they remembered believing that at some point.  
…Well, what was bad was the fact that they _wanted._ They _desired._ They felt _comforted_ in any sense.  
They shouldn’t be feeling anything.

…Man, it was getting really tiring to repeatedly drawl that into their mind, which supposedly did not exist.  
Hm. Supposedly according to whom, they wondered? It was in that moment that it struck them odd.

Throughout their entire existence, they undoubtably believed that they had nothing to show.  
No mind to think, no will to break, and no voice to cry suffering.  
Or some nonsense like that.

They had told themselves this mantra for _years. Centuries,_ even.  
But why? Who had instilled this idea in them?  
They couldn’t remember. It was if the memory of such a thing was blotted out in black ink.

Blackness… _darkness… a cold darkness… the crackling, the cracking of masks on ground, masks on other masks-_

“There we are!”  
The vessel’s eyes opened. They weren’t even aware that they had closed.  
They saw the nailmaster hunched over a small flame, one that grew larger with the addition of a small log. Mato contentedly hummed to himself, oblivious to the vessel’s moment of internal war.

So oblivious, in fact, that he continued to speak.  
“I hope you don't think me too forward when I say that I consider you to be my child.”

It was in that moment that the world went on pause.  
The nailmaster was still musing over something, but the vessel couldn’t hear him. They were far too focused on that statement.

_‘I consider you to be my child.’_

…

Something clicked.

Clicked so harshly that it shattered.

* * *

The vessel’s mind was something of delicate creation. So delicate that it wasn’t supposed to function as such. A vessel is made to be empty.  
A vessel is just that. A vessel, and a vessel alone. There was no room for emotion, desire, thought, or doubt.  
They were created with a single objective. To contain.

If unable to complete that, they were a failure.

If unable to complete that, they were discarded.

If unable to complete that, they were left to rot with no one to care for them.

Thus, they barely grasped what the concept of emotion even was.  
What is feeling, other than what is physical? How does one _feel_ in a mental or emotional sense?  
To a vessel, that premise does not matter, for it does not exist.  
They are not meant to understand how it works.  
They are not meant to understand it at all.  
They are not meant to feel.

They are made to accomplish a task.

And they failed.

_How? How did they fail? How did they know they failed? How do they know any of this?_

_Why can I hear that crackling? Why do I feel cold? Why do I ask myself such things? Why do I ask? Why do I feel? Why does anyone feel? Why does-_

_“Impure.”_

Someone spoke.

The vessel didn’t know who.  
But of course, they always knew.

Subconsciously it pulled to them.

They failed their task once, they would not do it again.

They came here to replace the Hollow Knight.

The Hollow Knight is impure.  
 _I am pure,_ The vessel once thought, but now they knew it a lie.

_But why should I want to be pure?_

_“Impure.”_

The voice repeated itself.

They knew that. They knew they weren’t pure.

_Why does it matter?_

_“Impure.”_

Again.

_Who are you?_

_“Impure.”_

_Where are you?_

_“Impure.”_

_...I don’t want this._

_“Impure.”_

_I want to feel._

_“Impure.”_

_I want to be free._

_“Impure.”_

_Why have you forced this upon me,_

_“Impure.”_

_Father?_

Wind, a crackle, and then they were -

* * *

Warm.

Warm?

Blink once, blink twice. They could hear the fire burning steadily. They could feel the ground beneath their feet. They could sense a presence over them. But they couldn’t see a single thing.

 _Ba-dump, ba-dump.  
_ A heartbeat. That’s what that was, right?  
Rhythmic. Regular. Soothing. A pattern.  
The vessel always liked patterns.

As their senses flooded back to them, they finally understood what was happening. For a second they had feared the worst: Loss of eyesight would make their life so much more difficult.  
However, that wasn’t it at all.

They were being held. Tightly, yet it wouldn’t have suffocated them… should they have needed to breathe.  
Strong arms were wrapped around them in an embrace. When they finally managed to lift their head, they realized they could now see the flames. Burning bright and steady.  
Over the shoulder of Mato.

Maybe they should’ve struggled. Maybe they should’ve cast a spell to knock the larger insect away, sending him staggering back so they could grab their nail…  
But they didn’t.  
They had never experienced a hug before. They wouldn’t even know that’s what that was if you told them.  
…Whatever this was, the vessel didn’t feel the slightest bit tense. In fact, they completely relaxed, their head falling into the fluffy collar of Mato’s cloak.

They didn’t notice the black stains they left in the fur.

They didn’t notice the drops that littered where they once stood.

They didn’t notice the streaks down their mask.

They hadn’t seen the one-sided exchange that occurred just before this. Mato turning to his pupil with respect, thanking them for honoring him and preparing to bow, as was customary… only to be faced with a broken child.

Choking on sobs that they didn’t acknowledge.

Sobs that they _couldn’t_ acknowledge.

They hadn’t seen Mato’s attempts to get their attention.

They hadn’t seen Mato pick them up and hold them out of some pure fatherly instinct, a desperate attempt to snap them out of this…

…until they did.  
And they accepted the embrace without a question.  
Sure, maybe it could've been dangerous... Maybe this could lead to their main objective falling to pieces... Maybe they should hastily get back to their task, so not to fail it once more...  
With feeling.

But they didn't care. They had time. They could do what they _wanted_ for now... relieve themselves of stress and save Hallownest some other time.  
And what they wanted now... was to stay here. So they did.  
They don't need to rationalize anything to anyone. This is what they wanted to do.

Winds, maps, lumaflies, fire, words, nail arts… so much buzzed in this newly acquired mind of theirs. They weren’t quite sure how they got this far. They weren’t quite sure how they got here specifically.  
They weren’t quite sure how they’d handle all these thoughts that now roamed free.

It didn’t really matter to them now.

They felt comforted. They felt safe. They felt warm.

And this time, that warmth did not burn.

It only ignited a new thought in them.

_…I… I hope… I hope you don't think me too forward... when I say... that I consider you to be my father._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'And what a shame that Mato could not hear such a thought'  
> was almost what I added to the end but I thought then it ended too sad-  
> WHICH I MEAN, somehow it ended kinda lowkey ominous instead but. Listen Ghost is happy, but ya gotta understand that being happy doesn't remove trauma outta the equation,, they're gonna need a lot more dad therapy to /properly/ get out of this mental state they're in  
> (Especially considering,, they got a whole rest of the game to go through!! and they're not even 100% sure what the hell happened to them in the past since they haven't been to the abyss yet, so ooF)
> 
> But that's it! That's the end. For now  
> I feel like I'll probably be adding more to the Weeping Cliffsides series, but not right away. I have other fic ideas with different characters that I wanna do. Though I might take a writing break after this,, considering I just,, wrote every chapter one after another, one per day, and now I'm kinda exhausted dghkjghj  
> Hope ya'll enjoyed my first fic!,, This was meant to be a oneshot and look what happened
> 
> I might come back and rewrite some'a this ending at some point. I dunno. Let me know what ya'll think! Seriously, I’d really like some honest feedback on this chapter specifically haha. There were a lot of ideas I had originally that didn’t make it in - like Ghost deciding the name for themselves. Which was originally how this chapter was going to end before I got so sidetracked, as per usual-
> 
> So! Yeah!! Please tell me how y’all feel about this, as I said, I might come back and tweak it a bit- depends on you guys tho!!
> 
> (Also also: You have no idea how tempting it was to absolutely wreck the ending with "the vessel rebooted, they felt nothing, they gathered their nail and walked out the door - Locate Geo" and just END but hdgkjH I coulDN'T THIS WAS suPPOSED TO BE FLUFFY WHY DO I ANGST EVERYTHING I TOUCH)


End file.
